


Third Degree

by sahiya



Series: Third Degree [1]
Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-11
Updated: 2010-02-11
Packaged: 2017-10-07 04:40:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sahiya/pseuds/sahiya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack is injured, and this time it's not something the Doctor can fix.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Third Degree

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for [](http://yamx.livejournal.com/profile)[**yamx**](http://yamx.livejournal.com/), who made a very generous donation in the [](http://community.livejournal.com/help_haiti/profile)[**help_haiti**](http://community.livejournal.com/help_haiti/) auction. Many thanks to [](http://canaana.livejournal.com/profile)[**canaana**](http://canaana.livejournal.com/) for providing a speedy and most excellent beta job, and to [](http://fuzzyboo03.livejournal.com/profile)[**fuzzyboo03**](http://fuzzyboo03.livejournal.com/) for on-going encouragement and persistence in the face of an ever-stubborn writer.
> 
> Thank you also to [](http://dameruth.livejournal.com/profile)[**dameruth**](http://dameruth.livejournal.com/), who provided inspiration for [](http://yamx.livejournal.com/profile)[**yamx**](http://yamx.livejournal.com/)'s prompt (to be found at the end of the story).

Jack was unconscious when the Doctor found him.

Unconscious and almost unrecognizable. The Doctor knew it was him by his wrist comp. His face had been sliced to ribbons by flying shrapnel and badly burned by flaming debris. Beneath a layer of soot and grime, the screwdriver showed second and third degree burns all across his face and part of his neck.

He fell to his knees beside Jack and started digging, clearing away the rubble that covered most of his legs and torso. Jack was lucky he hadn't made it any closer to the detonation site. He'd never have had time to defuse the bomb, and the blast would've killed him for sure if he'd been any closer to the source.

He shouldn't have been so bloody close to begin with, dammit. _Don't run off!_ was such a simple rule, but not one of his companions had managed to obey it so far. Most of the time the consequences were just inconvenient. But sometimes, like now, they were tragic. And the Doctor had only himself to blame.

Rubble finally cleared away, the Doctor checked Jack over quickly with hands and screwdriver. He had three broken ribs, a severe concussion, and a broken ankle, but no internal bleeding and no damage to any of the major organs. Through some miracle of chance, his eyes had been mostly spared. He was still breathing, however labored, and his heart was still beating, and that was more than the Doctor had dared hope for when he'd come inside the ruined museum looking for Jack.

"Gonna be all right now, lad," the Doctor told him, fitting one arm behind Jack's shoulders and the other in the bend of his knees. "Gonna take you home, fix you up." No response. Jack's head lolled against the Doctor's shoulder as the Doctor lifted him and set off the way he'd come. Distantly, he could hear other parts of the building coming down, but he'd studied the plans and knew the route that was likely to hold out the longest.

The humans were concentrating their efforts on the parts of the building furthest from the site of the explosion. The Doctor marched straight past them with Jack in his arms, ignoring offers of a stretcher, and let out a relieved breath when they finally emerged into cloudy, gray sunlight and clean, fresh air. The air in the museum had been thick with dust and debris.

Rose was helping with triage, but she must've had one eye on the building's only safe exit, because seconds after they emerged she was at his side, eyes glued to Jack's pale face. "Oh God, Doctor," she said, hands flying to her mouth. "Is - is he -"

"Alive," the Doctor said. He couldn't promise her much more. "TARDIS. Now."

Rose ran ahead, her TARDIS key clasped in one hand. The Doctor lengthened his stride.

***

Jack woke slowly, surfacing to the gray twilight of half-consciousness and then lingering there, a little afraid to go further. He had flashes of memory: Laughing with the Doctor at Rose in bed that morning, pulling the covers away from her to make her get up; a beautiful day in a new city, a picnic lunch in the park, a museum in the afternoon; and then a terrorist threat, a frantic search for the bomb as time ran out, and then -

\- and then nothing. Black. Panic rose in his chest.

A mind brushed Jack's. A familiar, trusted mind, far more beautiful and terrible than Jack's own. _Rest, lad. You did well. Everything will be fine._ Jack sank back into the dark again.

The next time he woke, he got all the way to blinking his eyes open. He recognized the ceiling as the TARDIS medlab, and the sluggishness in his mind and muscles as a side effect of very good painkillers. Nothing felt right and he couldn't move, but he didn't really care.

"Jack," Rose breathed from somewhere near his shoulder. She leaned over him, not touching. "Oh, thank God. The Doctor said you'd be all right, but it's been four days and I just -" Her voice trembled. He wanted to reach up and wipe her tears away with his thumb, tell her everything would be fine, but he couldn't lift his hand or move his lips. Rose kissed the tips of two fingers and touched them, feather-light to Jack's mouth. "I'm so gad you're awake."

"That makes two of us," the Doctor's voice said. Jack tried to lift his head to see him and couldn't. But that didn't matter much, because the Doctor was suddenly there, on Jack's other side. "Don't worry, you're out of the woods. But it's going to be nasty for a bit. No point in being awake for it, eh?" He smiled a smile that never touched his eyes and reached for Jack's IV.

_Wait, no,_ Jack thought, but it was too late.

When he woke the third time, he was relieved to find he could move. He turned his head to see Rose slumped over at his bedside, her head pillowed on her arms beside his hip. Experimentally, he wriggled his fingers, then lifted his hand to rest on Rose's head. He stroked her hair.

"Try not to wake her," the Doctor said in a low voice. This time Jack could turn his head to see the Doctor in the doorway. "She's hardly slept since you were hurt."

"When -" Jack said, or tried to. His voice came out in a painful rasp. The Doctor pushed off the door frame and filled a glass of water from the sink. He offered it to Jack with a straw. Jack picked his head up easily enough - the Doctor slipped his hand behind it, threading his fingers through Jack's hair - but had trouble with the straw. He felt his face heat as the Doctor mopped him up afterward, but he supposed he was probably still on some pretty strong meds for the pain.

Jack swallowed and tried again. "When was that?" he managed.

"About a week ago."

Jack stared. "A week? I've been unconscious for a week?"

"Believe me, lad, you wouldn't've wanted to be awake."

"But . . ." Jack swallowed again. "But I'm okay now?"

The Doctor hesitated. Not much, but Jack saw it. "You're healing up nicely." He took Jack's hand and laced their fingers together. Jack felt something in his chest ease just a little. Rose's head rested warm and comforting against his hip and the Doctor held his hand. Nothing could be too terrible under these circumstances.

But the Doctor was still looking at him, and he hadn't smiled yet. "What?" Jack said at last. "Doc, tell me. What's wrong?"

The Doctor looked down at their hands, then up again to meet Jack's eyes. "I'm so sorry, Jack. It's your face."

***

Rose woke abruptly to someone clenching a fist in her hair. "Ow, quit it," she mumbled irritably, before realizing where she was and that the hand in her hair belonged to Jack. All irritation swept aside, she captured the hand and sat up. "Jack, you're awake!" she said, still too sleep muddled to say much beyond the obvious.

Neither of her blokes paid her the slightest bit of attention. They were too busy glaring at each other. "I mean it, Doc," Jack said. "Give me a mirror."

_Oh no_. Rose was suddenly very awake - as though someone had dumped a bucket of cold water over her head. "No," the Doctor said, to Rose's immense relief.

"Doctor, it's my _face_! I need to know how bad it is!"

"It's bad, Captain," the Doctor said, and Rose could've slapped him for taking that tone with Jack right then. "At least right now," he amended. "But you'll heal. No sense making it harder on yourself than you need to."

Jack set his jaw. "I have the right."

"Jack," Rose said gently, before the Doctor could respond. "Please, give it a few more days." _At least until the oozing stops_, she didn't add.

He looked at her, and she hoped she managed to hide her flinch. It was worse with him awake, somehow. The cuts had healed, but the burns had been too severe. Deep tissue damage, the Doctor had said, the sort even the dermal regenerator on the TARDIS had trouble with. More than half his face was covered in gauze, but she'd helped the Doctor change the dressings and apply the ointment he said would prevent infection, and she knew how bad it was. It'd get better, but how much better, the Doctor wasn't sure. Burns that bad scarred.

Jack knew it, too. "Please," he said. His hand found hers without him having to look. "Rose, it's worse for me to wonder. Maybe it's not as bad as I think."

Rose was pretty sure it was. She glanced at the Doctor, who shook his head and turned away. Rose sighed and went into the loo off the medlab. She'd showered in here earlier at the Doctor's insistence. She hadn't wanted to leave Jack for even that long, but the Doctor'd been stubborn, so this had been the compromise. Her bag of make-up and toiletries was still there, and from it she fetched a little compact mirror. She rubbed it clean on her sleeve and took it out to Jack. "I'll give you this," she told Jack, "but only if you promise -" she swallowed "- if you _promise_ you'll remember that it'll get better. You're not done healing yet."

"I promise." Jack held his hand out. Rose handed the mirror over and then very carefully removed the gauze from his face.

Jack sucked in a quick breath when he got his first look. That was the last sound any of them made for at least three minutes. The Doctor stopped pretending to fuss at things on the counter and braced himself there, arms wide and head down. Rose barely breathed, just gripped Jack's slack hand in both of hers.

At last, Jack handed the mirror back to her. "Thank you," he said, avoiding her eyes.

"Jack . . ." Rose whispered.

"Please, Rose, don't." He still wouldn't look at her. "I need some time."

The Doctor cleared his throat. "Could put you out again if you want."

"No. I think I've slept enough. I just . . . I want to be alone for a bit."

Rose shook her head. "No, Jack -"

"Rose," the Doctor said, "c'mon." He held his hand out to her. "You heard Jack. And you need a night in your own bed."

"But -"

"Rose, just _go_," Jack snapped.

Rose couldn't stop her flinch this time. She let go of Jack's hand as though it had stung her. "Fine," she said. She considered just leaving - her feelings were hurt enough for it. But she couldn't. She touched the tips of her fingers to her lips and then to Jack's, too fast for him to object. Then she turned and left.

The Doctor was right on her heels, so when she turned to confront him in the hallway, he almost ran into her. She smacked him across the chest.

"Oi! What was that for?"

"Being a huge git, that's what! It would've killed you to look at him?"

The Doctor's eyebrows lowered in a scowl. "I looked at him plenty."

"Not when it counted." Rose shook her head and backed away, from the Doctor and the medlab door. Everything was blurring in and out of focus. She did need a night in her own bed. "I'm going to sleep," she managed to squeeze out past the lump in her throat. "G'night."

She'd planned to have a good cry, far away from where Jack might see. But in the end, she was so exhausted she didn't even have time. She was asleep before her head hit the pillow.

***

Jack lay on his back, face turned away from the door. He realized now what had happened with the straw earlier: his face was numb. He supposed he should be grateful, since it wasn't even half-healed and the burns were bad enough to have reached the subcutaneous tissue. Without anesthesia, he'd have been screaming. He had a high threshold of pain, thanks to Time Agency training, but there were limits even to what he could take.

He'd probably have been more grateful if he hadn't been screaming on the inside anyway.

This was it. It was over for Jack Harkness. He'd have to reinvent himself. A man with the face he'd seen in the mirror could not live the life he'd created. More than that, he'd have to change the way he thought of himself; he'd spent his whole life knowing he was handsome and charming, and now, he could be neither. His face, once his best asset, had suddenly become a seriously liability. Slipping up and falling back on skills he no longer had in the wrong situation would be a death warrant.

There were lots of ways for ugly men to survive, but Jack didn't know much about them, except in theory. Mostly they involved being the sort of person he'd promised himself he'd never be again. But he still had his intelligence, and once he healed up he'd have a strong body, too. That would be enough. It would have to be.

Because he couldn't stay. Not after seeing the pity in Rose's eyes, the way the Doctor had avoided looking at him even once after he'd delivered the news. He couldn't blame them. He'd be nothing but a burden to them, the way they lived. And if a small, insidious voice in the back of Jack's head insisted on pointing out that he would never have abandoned either of them under similar circumstances, then that was just - irrelevant.

And also unfair. They had fallen in love with the irresistible, irrepressible Jack Harkness, but still, they'd never force him to leave. In fact, he'd probably have to force them to let him go, and he wasn't sure he was strong enough for that. His survival outside the walls of the TARDIS was by no means guaranteed. And he loved this life - loved the travel and the adventure. Most of all, he loved the Doctor and Rose.

His mistake, he thought bitterly, had been in thinking that he could keep them.

Two tears, he decided, aware that there was a pressure in the back of his throat that needed release. One for Jack Harkness, whom he'd liked in the end, and one for the life he'd thought he could have here, with the Doctor and Rose. Then he took a deep breath, and kept on breathing until the door to the medlab sighed open.

He knew it was the Doctor without looking. The Doctor was his pole star and had been for three months, ever since he'd rescued Jack from his own idiocy. Also, his was a much heavier tread than Rose's.

"Need to hydrate and clean those wounds," the Doctor said. "Burns like that get infected if you look at them funny."

"Right." Jack sat up, letting out a small, involuntary moan at his still-sore ribs. The Doctor helped him pull a pillow behind his back, then dragged a chair over to his bedside, a tub of mint-green, strong-smelling goo in one hand and a cloth so thin Jack could almost see through it in the other. He dipped the cloth in the goo and commenced dabbing it onto Jack's face, with slow, careful thoroughness. Jack leaned his head back against and closed his eyes. He probably should've insisted on doing it himself, but these were the last intimacies he'd ever have with the Doctor, and he couldn't bring himself to deny any of them.

"You shouldn't've snapped at Rose," the Doctor said after awhile. "She just wants to help."

"I don't need her pity."

The Doctor sighed. "It's not pity, lad. It's sympathy."

Jack didn't answer. He'd never really seen the difference. But Rose didn't deserve his ire, so he'd apologize. He said as much, and the Doctor made a wordless noise of approval. They fell silent until the Doctor had finished Jack's face and neck and moved on to applying the ointment to scattered other burns Jack hadn't even noticed. Jack opened his eyes, then, and watched the Doctor work. "Be honest with me, Doctor," he said at last. "How bad do you think it'll be?"

The Doctor didn't look up. "I'd never lie to you about something like this, lad. Most places, you'd be dead right now, and even my best handiwork won't keep this from scarring. Reconstructive surgery on New New Earth might do it."

"Oh." Jack only managed not to wince because his facial muscles weren't really responding to his brain. Non-contemporaneous reconstructive surgery was expensive and time-consuming. Even if he could afford it - which he couldn't - he'd have to heal up as much as possible first, and then it'd take weeks for his paperwork to go through in a system where he didn't already exist. Once it had, the work itself might require multiple surgeries. He tried to imagine it: the three of them playing happy families in the TARDIS or even a flat in New New York for however long it took. Grocery shopping, heating bills, arguing about who drank the last of the milk . . .

It'd never happen. "Well, I'll work something out."

The Doctor seemed to almost smile. "I can give you a list of places when you're ready. But that won't be for a week at the very least."

Jack sucked in a breath through his teeth. That was a lot more direct than he'd ever thought the Doctor would be.

"All right?" the Doctor asked, frowning. "Didn't hurt, did it? Anesthesia shouldn't wear off till I tell it to."

"No, not my face. My ribs twinged." Right region, at least.

"Right. Enough sitting. Lie down." The Doctor was brisk but surprisingly gentle as he helped Jack under the covers again. He pulled them up to Jack's chin and smoothed them over, making sure he was all tucked in. It would've been nice, if only he would look Jack in the eye. And if only he hadn't just said, flat-out, that he wanted Jack gone the moment he could think of somewhere to go. Would give him a list of suggestions, even. "Do you think you can sleep or do you want something to help?" he asked as he applied clean, dry gauze to Jack's face.

"Something to help, please," Jack said dully.

***

The Doctor watched over Jack until he slept. The lad was quiet. Mourning, the Doctor suspected, though there was still a high probability that with time and good medical care, he'd look good as new again. New New Earth was one option, but there were other places that might have less bureaucracy. The Doctor had some favors he could call in to speed things along.

Once he was certain Jack was out, he tidied the medlab and went to check on Rose. She was sleeping soundly in her room - not the one the three of them shared now. The Doctor watched her from the doorway for awhile, but she didn't stir. Sheer exhaustion would keep her out for a good long time.

He was tired, too - he'd not slept at all while Jack had been in critical condition - but he knew he couldn't rest right then. Tinkering was what he needed. It wouldn't do for the TARDIS to start feeling neglected. He took himself off to the console room, where either of his companions could find him without any trouble, and used his screwdriver to open up one of the floor panels. He lay down on his stomach and hung his head and shoulders down into the opening to get a good look inside. It was a bit grimy, and it appeared the artificial grav boosters were in danger of coming out of alignment. Good thing he'd checked; he didn't think Jack or Rose would appreciate suddenly finding themselves floating along the ceiling. Well, Jack might, in the right circumstances; the Doctor grinned at the memory of Jack thoroughly embarrassing - and arousing - Rose with his tales of zero-G sex. Right now, though - probably not.

It should've been a short job, but once he was down there, he just kept finding things that needed doing. It was only when he looked up and saw a pair of fluffy pink slippers with ten pink-frosted toes peeking out that he realized how long he'd been at it. Eight-point-three-five hours, according to his time sense.

He tilted his head back to better see Rose. "Hullo there. Sleep well?"

"Yeah, 'spose so." She sat, her feet dangling down into the opening. He captured both slippers so they wouldn't fall, and boosted himself up to sit beside her. "Brought you some tea."

"Thanks." The Doctor glanced over his shoulder. "Should check on Jack."

"I just did. He was sleeping. Or, I dunno." She shrugged. "Maybe he was just pretending so he wouldn't have to talk to me."

The Doctor accepted the mug of tea from her and made sure their fingers brushed each other in passing. "We have to give him time, Rose. Don't take anything he says or does personally right now, all right?"

Rose sighed. "I know. It's just, it's so hard to see him like this. Not - not this," she gestured to her face, "though that's hard, too. He was just so . . . I don't even know what he was. Do you?"

The Doctor gave it some thought. "Angry," he said at last. "And frightened, as well."

"I'd be scared, too. I can't imagine what it must be like."

The Doctor put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her towards him. "Was thinking, though - I mentioned to Jack that there're lots of places he could have reconstructive surgery done. New New Earth, for example. Even if the scarring's bad, they could take care of most of it."

"That sounds expensive."

The Doctor made a derisive noise. "Money isn't an issue."

Rose looked up at him. "It isn't?"

"Nah. Never is for time travelers. Though come to think of it, the Time Agency probably froze all of Jack's accounts when he went rogue, and everything else he had went up with his ship. But I got more money than I know what to do with. It's not a problem."

Rose was quiet. "And you think Jack'll be okay with that? With you paying, I mean?"

The Doctor frowned. "Why wouldn't he be?"

"Jack's proud. Independent, you know? I'm not sure he'll like the idea."

She might have a point, the Doctor was forced to admit. But that was a problem he was happy to put off for another day. He had enough problems right now without borrowing more from the future. "Well, we'll just skip that bit for now. He has to decide where he wants to go first. In fact, that'd make a good project for him while he recovers. He's a doer, our Jack. Right now he's got too much time to think."

Rose nodded, brightening a bit. "I can help him."

The Doctor finished off his tea in one long swallow. "Fantastic. I'll get you the information and we'll have it ready for him when he wakes up. He'll feel better thinking about how to solve this, instead of lying about moping all the time." And Rose would feel better, too, knowing that she was helping him.

As for himself . . . the Doctor wasn't sure he should feel better. He should've never let Jack be the one to run towards the bomb. He hadn't had a whole lot of choice in the matter - the three of them had been coordinating evacuation efforts, but when it became clear that not everyone was going to make it out, Jack had just _vanished_ \- but it was his responsibility to look after his companions. It was his job to get almost-blown up, not Jack's.

And Rose wondered why he could hardly look Jack in the eye.

Sometime soon he'd have to think about apologizing, even if it wouldn't do either of them a whit of good. Right now, the Doctor had something to do. Something to fix. And fix it he would, because that was what he did.

***

Jack listened as Rose's footsteps faded. She'd stood in the doorway and said his name quietly, clearly testing to see if he was awake. He'd lain with his back to her and held very still, and after a few seconds, she'd left. He felt a little guilty for the deception, but he'd woken up feeling worse than ever about his prospects, and he just couldn't face her. The initial shock had worn off, leaving cold, unforgiving clarity in its place.

_You've done it before_, he told himself. He'd reinvented himself for the first time at sixteen; he'd left the Boe, where he was a troublemaker who couldn't keep his mouth shut, and gone into the Time Agency, where he was a top-achiever who couldn't keep his hands to himself. He'd done it again at thirty-four, when he'd left the Agency and become the conman who eventually fell in with Rose and the Doctor. It made being with Rose hard; she loved Jack Harkness, and seeing her pity what he'd become - he just couldn't do it.

But he also couldn't avoid her forever. The second time she came to the doorway and hovered, he rolled over and stretched his arm out towards her. "Hey, sweetheart," he said. "I'm sorry I snapped at you."

Rose's shoulders slumped in visible relief. She nodded. "It's all right. I shouldn't've been so sensitive." She sat in the chair by his bed and laid a thick envelope in her lap. She laced their fingers together and gave his hand a squeeze. "I feel a lot better after getting some sleep in a real bed."

"I bet. Did the Doctor get some rest? He looked tired earlier."

Rose frowned. "I don't think so. I found him tinkering under the console. I think he'd been there awhile."

Jack couldn't manage his usual lascivious grin, but he did wink at her. "You should wear him out later."

Rose's frown deepened. "Not without you."

"Rosie, it's going to be awhile for me. No reason you and the Doctor should suffer, too." And every reason for them to get used to being intimate without him. They hadn't started sleeping together until Jack had come along, and he'd be damned if they got ruined along with everything else. His life was in shambles, but if he could walk away knowing, without a doubt, that the Doctor and Rose had each other . . . well, it would still suck. But at least it'd suck a little less.

"Well," Rose said, squirming a bit, "we'll see."

Good enough for now. At least he'd managed to plant the seed. Jack nodded towards the envelope. "What's that?"

Rose's sudden grin was blinding. The tip of her tongue peeked out between her teeth. "It's a surprise the Doctor put together for you. He and I were talking, see, and he was telling me all about the places you could go to - to -" She faltered.

"Get made to look like a human again?" Jack supplied, and immediately gave an inward wince. He'd been trying for flippant, but apparently it was too soon. It'd come out bitter. Bitter enough that Rose actually flinched.

"Jack, no," she said, shaking her head. "That's horrible."

He shrugged. "True, though." She glared. He sighed and relented. "Have my face reconstructed?"

"Better," she said with a sharp look. "And yeah, that. I guess there are lots of them, but the Doctor had five he thought you should look at for one reason or another. I thought we could go through them together, yeah?"

Jack had to swallow twice before he could even consider answering. Rose had no idea, he realized, looking at her open, shining face. It'd never occur to her that cost would be an issue, or that Jack had not one cent to his stolen name. The Doctor knew, of course, but he'd chosen not to tell her. Jack decided he didn't have any choice but to play along. Most cities with top-rated medical facilities also had spaceports, after all. "Sounds good," he said.

Rose grinned again, so pleased to have made him happy. Jack's heart broke just a little more.

It kept breaking over the next hour, as the two of them poured over the information packets the Doctor had provided. Rose made lists of pros and cons for each possibility - the hospitals were all equally excellent, but she was very concerned about quality of life in the cities themselves. After awhile it became disturbingly apparent to Jack that the "happy families" scenario he'd dismissed was precisely what she had in mind.

"It's actually kind of exciting," she said, once they'd narrowed it down to two and decided to call it a day. Jack knew which one he'd eventually pick - it had a superior commercial spaceport that was far more likely to see ships equipped for temporal as well as spatial travel - but Rose was stuck on the parks and gardens the other city had to offer. "Not that I'm _glad_, of course," she added hastily, gathering everything up from where it was spread across Jack's bed. "But I've visited all these places without ever living anywhere besides London and the TARDIS. I guess we could still live in the TARDIS, but I hope we can talk the Doctor into taking a flat. It'd be interesting."

Jack hummed his agreement, even as he wondered how long the Doctor would let this little fiction go on. He couldn't bring himself to tell Rose the truth: that even if the Doctor would go in for something like that, which he wouldn't, Jack could never afford the surgery. It was all a ruse for Rose's sake, like when Jack's mother had told Grey their old dog had gone to live on a farm. But the way things were going, Rose would eventually catch on. Probably the Doctor was hoping Jack would just disappear before that happened; Rose would be upset if he did, but there wouldn't be much point in searching all of time and space for one man who didn't want to be found.

"Jack?" Rose said, ducking her head to catch his eye. "You okay?"

"Yeah, sweetheart. Just tired again."

She stroked his hair back from his face with extreme care. "Healing takes a lot out of you. You should rest if that's what you feel like doing. Want some company?"

The offer took him by surprise. He thought of the Doctor's hands, gentle as they smeared ointment on his face, and found himself nodding. "Please."

She shed her hoodie before climbing up beside him. She spooned up behind him, reversing their usual positions by tucking his head beneath her chin. She kissed the crown of his head. "Love you," she murmured.

Jack's eyes stung. "Love you, too, sweetheart."

And wasn't that just the hell of it.

***

Rose supposed the Doctor would say that time had no meaning in the Vortex, and so saying that a week went by without them landing anywhere was meaningless, too. But that was what it felt like to her. She slept seven TARDIS nights in her bed without either of her blokes and ate breakfast seven times with Jack in the medlab. She washed her hair five times, read three awful romance novels, and brewed countless cups of tea.

And she watched Jack's face heal.

Bloody weird was what it was. On 21st century Earth, an injury like that would've taken months to heal, but the stuff the Doctor kept smearing on Jack's face sped things up a lot. Rose could almost _see_ it changing. By the end of the second day, it no longer hurt to look at him. By the morning of the fifth, when the Doctor declared it safe to remove the last of the bandages, even the worst of the burns had gone white. The skin looked stretched, as though it'd been drawn tight over the bones of Jack's face. Some of the scarring was thick, but others weren't. The area around his mouth had been mostly spared, and a patch of about four square inches, from his left eye down over his cheekbone, looked almost normal.

On the seventh day, the Doctor took Jack off the pain meds altogether. Jack got up, showered, and dressed. Then he stood in front of the mirror in the loo and stared at himself for a long time. Rose watched from the doorway as he touched each scar individually, as though getting to know them.

"Can't feel much there," Jack said at last. The grimace he gave his reflection didn't look right. It was a little unsettling, but the Doctor had told Rose to expect that.

"What about your lips?" she asked, stepping forward to wrap her arms around his waist. She tilted her head back to look up at him.

His eyes were smiling for the first time in days as he looked down at her. "They're fine. Why do you ask?"

He knew bloody well why she asked. Cheeky. Rose stood on tiptoe to brush her lips across his, the first proper kiss she'd given him since he'd been hurt. When she pulled back, he followed her and kissed her more firmly. But when she parted her lips to deepen it, he broke away. "All right?" Rose asked, frowning.

"Yeah, of course. Just don't want to start something I can't finish." He smiled. It looked sort of tight and weak, but it was possible he couldn't physically manage anything else.

"Well, we can finish it later, yeah? The Doctor's finally letting you out of here today. The three of us should celebrate."

Jack looked away. "I don't think so."

Rose felt her mouth drop open. "Why not?"

He shrugged. "Ribs are still sore."

"But," Rose frowned, "I heard you tell the Doctor yesterday that they were fine."

Jack shrugged again. "It's not a big deal. I just don't want to risk them yet."

Rose smiled and moved closer, sliding one leg between his. "Well, we don't have to be athletic about it. Or," she added, suddenly struck by genius, "you could just watch." They'd done that before; Jack loved watching her and the Doctor together, and she didn't half mind watching her blokes with each other. A year ago she'd have laughed in the face of anyone who told her she'd ever like that sort of thing, but now she got turned on just thinking about it.

Jack shook his head. "No."

She took half a step back. "But why not?"

He pulled away from her altogether, twisting sideways to slide out from between her and the sink. "I don't need to give a reason, Rose," he snapped, and she blinked, stung. He sighed and reached for her hand. She let him take it, but she didn't return his squeeze of her fingers. "That was rude of me. I'm sorry. I just - I'm not ready yet." His eyes shuttered and he looked away. "None of this is easy for me."

That had the ring of truth about it. She gripped his hand. "I know, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pressure you, I just . . . I miss it. Miss us, the three of us. And I think we could all use the stress relief."

He gave her another small, tight smile. "I know, sweetheart. And you shouldn't let me stop you and the Doctor. Told you before, I'm okay with that. More than okay, even."

She frowned. "Yeah?"

"Yes," he said, and kissed her forehead. "Maybe he'll even sleep for a couple hours."

The Doctor hadn't been sleeping, it was true. "All right. As long as you're okay with it."

"Of course I am." He grabbed her by the shoulders, turned her towards the door, and gave her a playful swat on the bum. "Now go seduce His Time Lordliness away from re-configuring the temporal acclimators or whatever the hell he's up to."

"What, now?" Rose laughed.

"No time like the present!" He pulled her hair off her neck and gave her a swift kiss in a spot that always made her squirm. "Seriously, Rose."

Well, if he was going to twist her arm like that . . . "All right. Thanks, Jack." She hugged him tight and went to find the Doctor.

He was in the console room, just as Jack had predicted, up to his elbows in TARDIS grease and spare parts. It took some doing to lure him away, but she was persistent, and the TARDIS seemed to agree, zapping his fingers whenever he tried to work. At last he gave in and let her pull him down the hall to their bedroom. "What about Jack?" he asked.

Rose pulled her shirt off over her head. The Doctor's gaze dropped eight inches from her face to her breasts. She smirked. "He said he's not ready yet. But he's okay with this. It was his idea actually."

"Hmm," the Doctor said, his large hands settling on her waist as her fingers worked their way up his chest beneath his jumper.

"What?"

"Nothing. Just reflecting that my genius must be catching."

Rose snorted. The Doctor retaliated by sweeping her up in his arms and dumping her unceremoniously on the bed. In about half a minute he had her trousers off. His own followed suit and then he was settling his long, strong swimmer's body right on top of her, careful as always not to shift too much of his weight onto her. She drew her knees up to cradle him between her thighs and linked her hands around his neck.

She had missed this. But lovely as it was, there was something vital missing. Rose just hoped Jack would be ready soon.

***

Jack waited till Rose had gone, then sagged, leaning heavily against the sink. This was good, he told himself. This was right. This was what he wanted.

He forced himself to leave the loo and gather up the few possessions that had found their way to the medlab during his stay. Probably he should do the same for the rest of the TARDIS. It wouldn't be long now. Best to be ready to go when it was time, to save on watching Rose cry. It was pretty clear that he was going to have to play the heartless bastard in this drama, and he didn't think he could do that and watch Rose cry at the same time. Least not for very long.

He went to drop his stuff off in his room, and then paused in the hallway, trying to decide whether to do the library or the console room first. Library, he decided, but he hadn't taken two steps before the sound of Rose laughing drew his attention.

The door to their bedroom was just a few feet away, cracked open, as though they'd been in too much of a hurry to bother closing it. Jack could hear everything: their voices, though indistinct, the rustle of clothing being removed, the sound of their bodies falling onto the bed. He stayed frozen until the laughter turned to moans, and then he turned and walked away. He blinked rapidly and tried to control his breathing.

_Good. Right. What you_ wanted, he told himself. And for anyone who believed that, he had a harmless little Chula warship for sale. Great mileage.

The sad thing was, there wasn't much for Jack to pick up. Rose's things were everywhere, but Jack had come on board with just the clothes on his back, and he hadn't acquired much since then. He ended up in the console room at last, looking for his coat - not that there was any point in taking it with him. It was too much "Captain Jack." He'd need something else.

But definitely not a leather jacket.

Everything was a bit torn up from all the Doctor's restless tinkering, but it didn't take Jack more than a few seconds to find it right where he'd left it, flung over a strut by the door. It'd been hot out that day and he hadn't needed it.

Now, it was a little cool in the console room. Jack shrugged into the coat, pulled it snug around his shoulders, and wandered over to the console. He put his hand on its surface, caressing. It warmed under his fingers and the hum in the walls changed. "Hey, there, beautiful," he murmured. "Mind if I sit with you awhile?"

There was another slight change. Jack guessed that meant it was fine. He glanced toward the doorway leading into the rest of the ship before choosing a spot as far away from it as he could get. He lowered himself to the floor and leaned against one of the great coral struts. He was suddenly weary beyond all reason. He really should not have been so tired after days of bed rest. His face was healed and his ribs, despite what he'd told Rose, didn't hurt at all anymore. But he was just . . . exhausted.

The hum was comforting. He closed his eyes, trying to focus on that and not on the thoughts running wild in the back of his mind. The closer he got to leaving, the more frightened he became, and the harder it got to hide his feelings from Rose. The Doctor had to know, but they weren't talking about it.

Here, like this, he didn't have to hide anything. Lulled by the gentle sounds of the TARDIS, he drifted off into true, unmedicated sleep for the first time in weeks.

***

The Doctor managed a controlled collapse, at least, shifting to the side so only a fraction of his weight landed on Rose. Not that she seemed to mind much; she hooked a foot over his calf to pull herself closer, and ran her palm across the close-cropped hair on the back of his head as she kissed him. The kiss was languid, and her eyes were heavy lidded as she pulled back to look at him. "That was lovely," she said, with a lazy smile.

He grinned. "Glad to be of service."

She poked in him in retaliation, apparently too worn out to deliver the smack he'd expected. Then she smiled and rolled over, pulling his arm across her waist and ribcage.

This left them both staring at the empty space on the other side of the bed.

"Doctor?" Rose said quietly after a moment.

"Mmm."

"I don't want to do this again without Jack. Not," she added hastily, rolling back to look at him, "that I didn't have a good time. I did. But -"

"It doesn't feel right," the Doctor finished.

Rose nodded, looking suddenly miserable. "I know he said he was okay with it. But . . . I guess I'm not okay with it."

The Doctor had to admit that he wasn't, either. Not really. He adored Rose far more than was healthy for either of them, but he'd felt Jack's absence so keenly, he'd even found himself reaching for him at times. He'd missed Jack's easy playfulness, his rough kisses, and especially his complete, unabashed joy in his body and theirs.

That last thought gave the Doctor pause, in light of Jack's current circumstances. He sighed. "Yeah," was all he said to Rose, even as he gave an inward wince.

"It'll be okay. I'll talk to him." Rose yawned. "In a bit," she added in a sleepy mumble, snuggling back against the Doctor.

The Doctor's indulgent smile was interrupted by his own jaw-cracking yawn. He blinked, annoyed with himself, and then did the math and realized he hadn't slept in an absurdly long time. He'd been too worried about Jack, and then he'd been too _guilty_ about Jack. It was all catching up with him now, when his system was flooded with endorphins. He could get up and go out to the console room if he wanted to, he told himself, but there didn't seem to be much point.

He found a comfortable position spooned up behind Rose, his face hidden in the back of her neck, and let himself drop off to sleep.

He dropped straight into a dream that wasn't a dream. Nor was it his.

He stood frozen in despair as the TARDIS faded away - felt a flush of shame at a derisive peal of feminine laughter - went utterly cold and pulled the trigger of the blaster in his hand.

His head felt like it might burst. And then, as though he'd finally been allowed to surface after being held under water, the chaos resolved itself into -

_\- an alleyway, cold and filthy, with shadows that moved like animals. The ground was hard and cold and filthy, just like this city, just like this whole world. He didn't know how he'd gotten here, but how he would get away seemed to be a moot point._

_There was a knife in his gut._

_His hands were sticky with blood, most of it his own, and cold sweat coated his face. He shivered with shock. No help was coming. He knew that, and yet he strained for the sound that had rescued him before. Mechanical, a little rough around the edges, but oh, so beloved._

_It didn't come. He realized once and for all that it was never coming. All the years he'd spent hoping to turn and see the TARDIS at the end of the street were in vain. He would die alone, unloved, and nameless, just as he deserved._

_He gripped the hilt of the knife and pulled. There was a moment of extraordinary pain, and then a strange euphoria as his life's blood streamed out over his hands -_

The Doctor sat bolt upright. Rose pushed herself up on one arm. "Doctor?"

He threw back the covers. "Come on."

"Wha -?"

"Jack." He tossed her knickers and her robe at her, before going for his trousers. He forewent his pants and jumper in his haste, and barely let Rose zip her sweatshirt over her bare chest before grabbing her hand and dragging her towards the console room.

***

Jack woke, chest heaving, heart racing, the rush of blood in his ears. Rose and the Doctor's faces swam in and out of focus overhead; their voices were muddled and strange in his ears, as though heard under water. It took seconds for his mind to sort through everything, and for one horrible moment he was utterly certain that this was the dream and his body was still lying back there in the alley. But Rose's hands were too warm on his face, the Doctor's too cool through Jack's shirt where he rubbed his back.

If this was the dream, he didn't want to know it.

"There you go," the Doctor said softly. "Easy, lad."

Jack opened his mouth to say something, but all that came out was a desperate, strangled sob. Rose gathered him close, and he turned his face into the crook of her neck. She smelled of the Doctor and sex, and he suddenly realized that neither of them was wearing much clothing. It should have turned him on, but it didn't. Another choked noise escaped him and he burrowed deeper in shame.

When Rose spoke, Jack could feel the vibrations in her throat. "Doctor, I think Jack could use some tea, yeah?"

There was a moment's pause. Then the Doctor said, "'Course. Back in a tick."

Rose pulled a few inches away and caught Jack's chin with her hand, gently forcing him to look up enough to meet her eyes. "Hullo, there," she said. "Tell you what. I'm gonna sit now, so my leg isn't falling asleep. Then I'm gonna hold you while you tell me the truth about what's going on with you. All right?"

Jack shook his head and tried to pull away. Rose's arms tightened. "It was just a nightmare," he said. "Don't know what all the fuss is about."

Rose sighed. She prodded him to shift his weight and collapsed to the floor. She leaned against the coral strut and pulled Jack's head down to her lap. Jack resisted briefly, then gave in, too exhausted to argue. Her fingers moved through his hair, tugging softly at his scalp. "Not just that," she said. "I mean pushing the Doctor and me together, and coming in here and falling asleep on the floor. I don't know what any of it means, Jack, but all together it adds up to something I don't like. So please - just tell me."

Jack squeezed his eyes shut, feeling the words wrenched from him. "I don't want to go."

Rose's fingers went still. "What?"

"I don't want to go," he said again, a little louder. "I know I should. I know I'm no good to either of you like this, but I just - I don't want to go."

"Jack, I -" Rose paused. "Why would you go?"

She sounded so confused. Jack was suddenly furious with her for being so goddamn naive. He sat up and grabbed her hands by the wrists. "Why? Because of _this_, Rose," he hissed, forcing her hands up to his face, right over the worst of the scars. "I don't know if you noticed, but my face is fucking ruined."

"So what, Jack?" Rose's hands twisted so they cradled his face. He could feel them just barely, feel that she was moving her thumb over the scars. "We love you, not your face."

Jack laughed unhappily. "If that's what you think, sure. Fine. But it doesn't matter, because it's a huge liability. I can't stay, Rose. I can't. My face'll get one of you hurt or killed and I just - I can't risk it. But God, I don't want to go."

Rose was staring at him with her mouth open. "But - but didn't we decide already? New Hope Hospital on Rogani VI? We'd love you even if you'd look like this for the rest of your life, but you're not going to. I don't understand."

"No, you don't," Jack said flatly. "Did it ever occur to you that surgery like that costs money?"

"Well, yeah, of course -"

"I don't have any, Rose. None. Not one credit. I can't afford it." He laughed again, shaking his head. "And the Doctor knows it. He just didn't want to tell you."

Rose stared at him. "Oh my God," she said at last, and Jack let out a breath, relieved that she'd finally gotten it. "We are all such _idiots_!" She jumped to her feet while Jack was still trying to figure that one out, and pointed at him. "Stay right where you are, Jack Harkness. Don't you move." She bolted from the room.

Jack slumped to the floor, head in his hands. He'd blown it this time. The Doctor would be pissed, Rose would be upset, and he'd still have to leave. "Selfish bastard," he hissed at himself. "Couldn't tell her everything was fine, fob her off another day. Had to open your mouth, didn't you? Stupid, selfish _bastard_."

He looked up at the sound of multiple footsteps on the grating. "Rose, what -" the Doctor was demanding as she hauled him around by the hand.

"We are all _such_ idiots," she repeated. "Doctor, Jack thinks he has to leave. He thinks we won't love him anymore if he isn't handsome, which is just stupid, but he also thinks he has to go because even if we do still love him, his face is somehow a liability, and he can't get it fixed because he can't afford it - and he says you knew and didn't want me to know. Doctor!"

Jack cringed, wishing he wasn't on the floor with the two of them looking down at him. The Doctor stared at him, mouth open slightly. "I'm sorry," Jack said, weakly.

The Doctor's mouth snapped shut. "You should be. Don't know what's more insulting, the idea we'd stop caring about you because your face isn't perfect, or the idea I'd manipulate you into having to leave."

Jack stared. "But -"

"_I_ am going to pay for your surgery, Jack. I was going to pay all along, but Rose thought you'd have a problem with it, so we decided not to mention it." He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Rose is right. We are all idiots."

Jack swallowed. "But . . . you can't. Doctor, it's too much."

"Think that's for me to decide, not you." The Doctor sighed and lowered himself to the floor. Rose followed and immediately took Jack's hand. "Jack m'lad, I'm so sorry. You've been thinking this all week, haven't you? That's why you encouraged Rose and me."

Jack nodded, looking down at his hands. "I just - no one's ever done anything like that for me before. It didn't occur to me."

The Doctor sighed. "My fault. My fault about the whole thing, really, but especially this. I should've said."

Jack looked up. "How is this your fault? I kinda think it's the fault of the terrorists who planted the damn bomb. Or mine, for deciding to run in when I knew there probably wasn't enough time."

"If anyone had to run in, it should've been me. Rose, I want you to listen to this, too," the Doctor added with a sharp look in her direction. "I'm really hard to kill. It's my job to run towards the bomb."

Jack shook his head. "No. You're too important to risk like that."

"Jack, listen to me! This is not negotiable. _I run towards the bomb_. You and Rose get the hell out and get everyone else out, too, if you can. All right?"

Rose nodded. Jack bit back any number of things he could've said, and finally nodded. "That still doesn't make this your fault," he added. "It was my choice. I knew the danger and I decided to try anyway. And if I can't have free will anymore, then I don't want to be on this ship."

The Doctor's face softened just a bit. "Point taken. And it was a heroic choice, Jack - a bloody stupid one, but a brave one, too. Just don't go making it a habit when I'm standing right next to you and I'm faster, smarter, and harder to kill."

Jack smiled ruefully. "Thanks, Doc. Way to stroke my ego."

"But, Jack," Rose's hand gripped his hard, "you didn't really think we'd stop loving you if you weren't perfect anymore?"

Oh hell. Jack nodded, even though he knew it would break her heart. "It's nothing to do with you," he said hastily. "It's not your fault. It's that the person I was - am - Jack Harkness . . . he isn't real, you know." Jack forced himself to look at her. "That's not my real name. I stole it from a man in 1941. I'm a performance, Rose. A persona. A lie. And my face was - is - part of that. I can't be that man with this face. You love Jack Harkness, and if I'm not him anymore, then the man you love doesn't exist."

There was a moment of complete silence while the others stared at him. Jack braced himself. Then the Doctor snorted. "You give yourself too much credit."

Jack felt his mouth drop open. "Wha -"

"Thing about an act is, once you know it's an act, it's easy to see through it. And I've had your number since Day One, _Captain_."

Jack blinked. "But -"

"Hush," Rose said, putting a finger against his lips. "The Doctor's right. I knew it, too. Not that I didn't enjoy the champagne and dancing right in front of Big Ben. But when you're with us, just the three of us, like this, or when we're in bed - tell me, Jack, is that a performance?"

"Sometimes," Jack admitted in a whisper.

"But not all the time?"

He shook his head. Not even most of the time anymore. He didn't know when he'd started to drop the act in front of them, but he suspected it'd happened before they'd started sleeping together. Maybe that was even why they'd started.

"Then I don't care what you call yourself, and I don't care what face you have. I love _you_. Right, Doctor?"

The Doctor cleared his throat. "Have to say, I find Jack Harkness more than a bit irritating. I'd prefer to see less of him and more of you, whatever name you want us to use."

Jack smiled. "I like Jack. I've gotten used to it."

"Good," Rose said with an answering smile, "'cause so have I." She leaned in and kissed him. He hesitated before letting her deepen it, but finally he let go, and tried to pour all his relief, remorse, and _joy_ into it.

They were both flushed when they came up for air. Jack glanced over at the Doctor; his eyes were dark and intense. Rose stroked a hand down Jack's chest, pausing to rub her thumb over his nipple in a way that never failed to make him shudder. "You missed out earlier," she said.

Jack nodded, skimming his hand up and down Rose's side beneath her thin sleepshirt. "I did." He leaned in, nuzzling Rose's neck, catching a waft of the scent he'd smelled earlier: Rose and the Doctor and sex, all at once. Whatever reaction he'd failed to have before, he was definitely having it now. He stood - Rose, for some reason, liked to have sex in a bed, and he hadn't gotten her hot and bothered enough yet for her to forget that - and offered Rose a hand up.

The Doctor stood as well, and stopped him. "Jack," he said gently, and leaned in to kiss him, cradling Jack's head between the tips of his fingers. Something that'd stayed tight in Jack's chest loosened. He sighed into the kiss, melting against the Doctor in a way he usually didn't allow himself.

A soft sound made them both break away and look up. Rose was wiping tears away with the back of her hand. Startled, Jack reached for her, to pull her in, but she was shaking her head even as she took his hand. "No, no, I'm fine, it's just - we came really close, didn't we? To never having this again." She swallowed and let the Doctor wipe the last of the tears away with his thumb. "It's okay," she said again, voice breaking a little. "But I really want to be with the two of you right now."

The Doctor brushed a kiss along the nape of her neck, and then along Jack's temple. "I think we can manage that. Jack?"

They both looked at him - waiting, Jack realized, for his explicit consent. He drew a deep breath and wondered if he'd ever done anything this hard or this wonderful in his whole life. "Yes. Please."

**Epilogue**

"I'm back!" the Doctor announced, stepping out of the TARDIS. He glanced around the lounge of their flat - it was empty, but an abandoned plate of crumbs on the coffee table told him where one of his partners had eaten lunch. An open window let in faint sounds from the street, where another day in the bustling capital of Rogani VI was winding down. When no reply came, he added, a bit more loudly, "Rose? Ja -"

Rose put her head out of the kitchen. "Shh," she hissed. "He's resting. Did you get the milk?"

"Yes," the Doctor sighed. "Straight from Belgium, 2046. You know, Rose, you really should get over this cow fixation. Yrrglinfff's milk tastes exactly the same."

"It does not," she said with a huff. "That's like saying soy milk is just like cow's milk, which it isn't. You can put it in your tea, yeah, but it'll always taste funny." She took the carton from him and stood on her toes to kiss him. "Anything else happen?"

"Mauve signal - only a small one," he added when she frowned. "Bloke's ship broke down, needed a lift. How's Jack? Did it go well today?"

"Guess so. He had a bit of a funny reaction to the anesthesia, so he's been sleeping it off. Dr. Vree said it wasn't dangerous. I'll make some tea now that I've got proper milk, and you can take some in to him."

She disappeared back into the kitchen. The Doctor hung his jacket up in the coat closet, right between Jack's RAF coat and Rose's pink hoodie. A vague sense of claustrophobia came over him, as sometimes happened when he did something particularly domestic, and he took a moment to breathe through it. This was just temporary, he reminded himself. And it was for Jack. Jack was worth a couple months of domesticity.

By the time he he turned around, Rose was there, mug of tea in hand and a knowing look in her eye. "All right?" she asked, eyebrows raised. He gave her the haughtiest Time Lord glare he could manage. She rolled her eyes and handed him the mug. "See if he wants anything to eat. He didn't have any lunch."

He stared after her in bemusement. Doing domestic was apparently terrible for his authority.

The bedroom was dark and quiet. Jack was curled up in the middle of the large bed, but the Doctor knew by his breathing that he was awake. "Jack," he said in a low voice, setting the mug of tea on the bedside table. "How're you feeling?"

Jack rolled onto his back and blinked up at him several times before replying. He looked as though he were giving the question a lot of very careful consideration. "Stoned," he said at last. He looked over at the mug. "Is that tea?"

"Yep."

"Good." The Doctor helped him sit up and made sure he had his hands wrapped firmly around the mug. Jack sipped the tea. The Doctor sprawled out on the bed beside him, one hand resting on Jack's hip. Jack shifted over so he was snuggled up close to the Doctor, head resting against his shoulder. "How d'you like my face?" he asked in between sips.

The Doctor suppressed a smile. "Let me take a proper look." He tilted Jack's chin up, then gently prompted him to turn first right, then left. The skin grafts were taking very well indeed; Dr. Vree was top in her field and it showed. That tight look was almost gone, as were the worst of the scars. The more delicate graft work and cosmetic fine-tuning were still to come, but Jack already looked far more like his old self. "Beautiful." He kissed Jack's forehead. "Rose wanted me to ask if you wanted something to eat." Jack grimaced and shook his head. "All right. Maybe later?"

"Maybe," Jack said dubiously into his mug.

Before long, Jack started nodding off over his tea. The Doctor rescued the precariously tipping mug and helped him lie down. Jack kept hold of his hand in a loose grip as he drifted off, and the Doctor stroked his hair with his free hand. He was asleep again in ninety-eight-point-three-four seconds.

The Doctor took a deep breath. Then, as he had every night since they'd arrived on Rogan VI, he used his time sense to carefully check Jack's personal timeline. Not too closely, of course, it wouldn't do to spoil himself, but enough to know that everything was back as it should be.

Everything was fine. The Doctor let out his breath and decided it was finally time to stop doing these checks. Silently, he thanked the TARDIS for her meddling. Jack had never brought up the dream he'd had that day in the console room, and the Doctor thought he probably didn't realize what it had truly been.

"Everything okay?" Rose said softly from the doorway.

"Yeah. Seemed like he was still pretty woozy."

She came closer to the bed. "Dr. Vree said he'd probably be all right by tomorrow morning." She checked the mug. "He drank most of the tea, at least. There was lots of honey in it." She sat down on the edge of the bed and brushed Jack's fringe back. Then she leaned over and kissed the Doctor. "We're gonna be all right, yeah?"

For a moment, the Doctor wondered if she somehow knew - but no. That was impossible. She was simply looking for reassurance. She was so much better at doing domestic than he was that sometimes he forgot they were living thousands of years out of her time. "Yeah," he said, and grinned. "We're gonna be fantastic."

_Fin._

**Author's Note:**

> [](http://yamx.livejournal.com/profile)[**yamx**](http://yamx.livejournal.com/)'s prompt: _I want an established OT3 relationship. On one of their adventures, Jack somehow receives facial injuries. The wounds are not life-threatening, but severe enough that scarring is a real possibility even with TARDIS medicine. Jack takes it very, very badly. The point of the story would be how they deal with his fears and reassure him._


End file.
